Moments of Determination
by LittleBitLonger
Summary: If Kris had won that first race, she would have had sex with Junior. Feel free to disagree, but I'm running with it. Rated T for blatant references to sex and some language.
1. A Moment

DISCLAIMER: _Wildfire_ belongs to ABC Family. So not my property.

_All paths are the same, leading nowhere. Therefore, pick a path with heart._

_- Carlos Castaneda_

Chapter 1

Kris Furillo felt like she couldn't breathe. She felt Wildfire shifting between her legs, inching back and forth, and she briefly remembered when Wildfire wouldn't ride unless he had that goat nearby. A smile crossed her face – _stretching from one side of her face to the other_ — as she remembered Todd and Henry standing there, one young, one old, perfectly matched as a team. Kris looked into the crowd, but it was only a blur of flesh tones and splinters of unnatural brightness. She squinted her eyes but she still couldn't make out the faces of anyone there -- _I see you_ -- and the smile faded away as she realized that right now, she was on her own. She hadn't felt this lonely since she had first come to Raintree. How did jockeys survive this without going crazy? And she automatically glanced towards Tina. Kris glared.

For some reason, that one action made her feel better. She managed not to squeak when the gate was lifted, but she didn't urge Wildfire on, either, and it was only through his good sense and great training that they didn't just stand there like dopey-faced statues. As they galloped forward, Kris knew with a sudden pragmatic certainty that she was a very inexperienced rider on a very experienced horse.

She felt like she wasn't really awake. She was moving – urging Wildfire on, leading him around and behind and irrepressibly _forward_ - but they weren't the conscious motions of reason. Kris dimly remembered this dim dizziness and lightheaded impossibility from when she was taking painkillers, Tina's painkillers, and she wanted to glance over to see where Tina was, but how could she? She was blind – "_I see you," he had said to her, in the soft sweet heartbreaking voice he used when he was making love to her_ -- and deaf and even as she heard a voice saying, "Woah, Wildfire," she was thinking of Junior inside of her, and she felt a purely female thrill of delight as she and Wildfire passed the finish line, in first place.

--

It was when she was sweating and panting and surrounded by the Ritter family – her loving her happy heronly family – as lights flashed in her face that she thought to look for Junior.

"Matt," she said, then, "Matt," and finally, in his ear, "_Matt._" and he turned. "Where's Junior?" she shouted. He hesitated. He shrugged.

"No idea!"

She looked around at the throng of people shouting Kris, Wildfire, Kris, and didn't see him anywhere.

"Kris!" "Over here!" "How does it feel…!" and she smiled for the cameras.

--

It was two in the morning and she was slightly drunk when she stumbled into her trailer. She was humming some song from hours before, an old sixties song about wild horses and loneliness, and didn't bother to turn the lights on before she started unzipping her dress.

"I want you to know that I'm an honorable man," and it was the familiar voice, familiar words, that made her know his next sentence. "I could have waited just five minutes – "

"And I would have been entirely – " she started to finish, and he kissed her.

Drunk on liquor and pride and lust, she kissed him back. And it was a good thing that he was there, because she wouldn't have been able to unzip her dress on her own. It was a good thing that he was there, because now that she thought of it, nothing would have been a better way to end the night than to make wild passionate love with Junior until four in the morning. Afterwards, they tangled together like puppies, and before she fell asleep, she thought what a good thing it was that he was there.

--

When Kris woke up, she wondered if she might be dead.

Everything in her ached. The muscles in her legs were seized up in agonizing knots. Her head throbbed. Was there any skin left on her feet? And her arm was asleep.

It took a moment to realize that the last part wasn't the result of riding and drinking and sex, but of Junior weighing a ton. And, apparently, cuddling.

"Junior," she rasped, and, yeah, her throat hurt too. "Junior, roll off me," and he just mumbled something embarrassing and obscene and yanked all the covers to his chin. Kris yanked them back. "Junior –"

"Kris!"

She knew that voice – "Pablo!" – and sitting bolt upright didn't help either –

"Shit."

Junior was awake, at least.

"Get off –"

Pablo stepped inside, blinked, and stepped right back outside again.

"Fuck."

Yeah, Junior was awake. And naked. And for six in the morning, he seemed very…

"Junior," and Kris couldn't help laughing.

"Mmm…"

She was tempted. But then she remembered Pablo. And Wildfire. And the Ritters. So she stood up, and gasped at the immediate shock of pain that rushed through her. Kris hadn't felt this lousy since the first time she rode Wildfire, back at LaGrange. She rubbed her leg absently.

"Did you know," Junior said, in a conversational tone, "that you look absolutely adorable when you're naked? It's a good look for you. You should try it out more often."

"Junior, I really don't have time. Pablo was just in, and I'm probably late for chores already…" She pulled on underwear, bra, and shirt as she spoke, and then turned to face him.

He was reclining on his elbows, stretched across the little bed in the trailer, his feet practically dangling off the footboard. His hair was mussed, his eyes were bloodshot, and there was an ugly red mark on his cheek from sleeping awkwardly on a shared pillow. And Kris knew she was in love with him.

"Listen, I'll – I'll call you later, okay? I have to – later, okay?" She was stammering and tripping over her feet. When he stood up, she blushed.

"Okay," he said, quietly, and then gave her a slow, soft kiss on the mouth. "Later." He grabbed his clothes off the floor, pushed open the door, and paused. "And, Kris?"

"Yeah?" Soft, weak, embarrassingly breathless.

"Don't forget to put on your pants."


	2. A Hangover

DISCLAIMER: _Wildfire_ belongs to ABC Family. So not my property.

Chapter 2

It was a little-known fact that tequila and regurgitated hotdogs could combine to create the singular effect of a throat having the texture of steel wool. Pablo Betart pondered this through a blistering headache. He thought that it would make an excellent addition to the "Don't Drink. Ever." sermon that Jean had delivered with an embarrassing lack of conviction to Matt when he turned fifteen.

He woke up after a pitiful two hours of sleep and got through the morning routine with the aid of a pair of a long-forgotten pair of sunglasses, lots of coffee, and the focused irritation that Kris would think that winning a race exempted her from chores. He went to her trailer with the intention of delegating the filthiest and most undignified work that he could think of, to nip this new arrogance right in the bud. He called for her name and then walked in, expecting her to be tired. Hungover, maybe. A little belligerant.

Upon seeing Kris naked and squirming beneath a bleary-eyed Junior Davis, Pablo hoped, prayed, _begged the Almighty Lord himself_ that hallucinations could be a side-effect of a hangover.

When he realized that he was seeing the harsh reality, he stood outside, feeling awkwardly like a mother realizing that his baby girl was all grown up. All grown up and having sex with the neighbors. He'd mostly quit smoking four years ago, but right now he was craving a cigarette.

Having Junior Davis stumble out the door with a got-lucky, shit-eating grin and his bare ass hanging out…didn't help his headache much. Watching Junior's smile fade to panic upon seeing Pablo…kind of did.

Pablo decided to start off soft. "You better be hoping to God that I don't tell Jean about this."

Junior attempted an appeasing smile. The effect was a little weakened by a line of drool on his chin. "Now, listen, it takes two people to –"

His fist connected with Junior's nose, making a satisfying crunch. Junior fell back onto the steps with an embarrassingly unmanly yelp of pain. He looked up at him with surprised eyes.

Pablo looked down, kicked the dirt, and sat down next to him. He sighed. "She hasn't got a dad."

Junior gave him a frightened sidelong glance around the hands clutched around his nose, which was gushing blood at a truly satisfactory rate.

"Kris never really had anyone looking out for her before she came here. She's been through a lot of tough shit." Pablo gave him a look of half-hearted disdain. "Stuff you wouldn't understand."

Junior swallowed. It looked painful.

"She's my responsibility. But I don't know how to…approach…that." Pablo chewed and spat out the words like straw. He put his face into his hands and sighed with a sincere feeling of failure.

He felt a hand on his shoulder. "It's gonna be…uh, it's gonna be okay. You're doing…you're doing fine." Pablo lifted up his head and Junior snatched back his hand whipcrack fast.

Pablo suppressed what would have been a childish snicker. "Right."

"No, I mean it. I mean, Kris listens to you, she respects you. She, ah, she loves you." Junior looked profoundly uncomfortable.

He understood the feeling. "Uh, right. Yeah."

They sat on the steps for a moment that stretched on in awkward silence.

Finally he gave Junior a slap on the back that made the boy wince. Pablo stood up, stretching out the kink in his shoulder that just wouldn't go away. "Come on inside. Jean's made eggs and we can get some ice for that nose."

Even with blood gushing down his face, Junior could still give an admirably heart-tugging expression of puppydog gratitude. He stood up. "Thanks," he said, his voice ringing with sincerity. "I promise, this won't happen again." He extended his hand expectantly.

Pablo stared determinedly at the aluminum siding to the right of Junior's shoulder. "But, ah, first…why don't you put on some pants."


End file.
